Not my Fae (Vegas Fae Stories Book 8) by Tom Keller

Author:Tom Keller [Keller, Tom]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Unknown
Published: 2019-09-11T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

We met up with Michael at the security desk in the Casino of the Downtown Neptune. After being introduced to Samson and greeting me like an old friend, we followed him into his office for some small talk. Business-related for the most part, and then he invited us to dine with him at one of the Neptune's smaller steakhouses. After a delicious meal of steak and lobster, the waiter brought the bill. Before she could react, Michael picked it up.

"Don’t even say it," he said, handing her a separate check. "I wouldn't want your bosses in DC to think I was trying to bribe you." He pointed his thumb in my direction. "This guy's money, however, is no good. Not just because Mrs. Milagre loves the bastard, although I can’t for the life of me understand why, but more so because we've been friends since we were kids." He waved at one of the waiters. A minute later, he brought a bottle of wine to the table and filled three glasses. "Now that that's out of the way and we're off the clock, this one's on me."

"So you've been friends for a long time, have you?" Roxana noted, taking the offered glass. "How did you two meet?"

"What? He didn’t tell you?" Michael replied, wagging a finger at me.

"Come on, Michael," I said, swirling the wine in my glass. "I'm sure she's not interested in our sad, boring old stories."

"Hah!" he said, looking over at her. "Boring, never! Sad… well… maybe. But tell me the truth, I'll bet you a dollar to a donut that all you know about him is the negative stuff. Am I right?" He waved his hand, shaking her off. "No, I know you won’t answer. But I'm sure it's true. So, what do you say? You want to hear some real stories about our friend Robert here? The real Robert, not the ones in all the fairy tales they spread about him."

"Michael," I said, secretly hoping he would continue. "I don’t think that's…"

"Yes," Roxana said, putting her hand over my wrist. "I believe I would like to hear a little bit more about your lifelong friend here."

"Fine," I said, looking over at him as I rolled my eyes. "But try and keep the bullshit to a reasonable level."

"Oh, don’t worry, Robby," he said, chuckling at the use of the name. "I won’t tell her how we're both orphans and you used to invite me for dinner on holidays because my foster parents were such cheap sons of bitches." He paused to look over at her. "His grandmother was a Saint, by the way. She used to pack him an extra sandwich for lunch just so I'd have something to eat. She even coached him on how to offer it to me so I wouldn’t feel bad."

He went on like that for about 10 minutes, concluding by telling a story about me getting kicked out of school for beating up two guys that were picking on a girl because she had a birthmark that covered half of her face.

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